Lentil and Chickpea Salad

I turn a lot of desserts out of this kitchen.  Cookies and cakes, pies and pastries, ice cream and brownies.  But we do eat dinner every night, I promise.  And I pack our lunches everyday.  While we do believe in dessert at pretty much every meal, it is my responsibility to make sure we eat from other food groups as well.

It's easy to get excited about a new cake.  It's not all that often that a salad comes along that makes you really excited about lentils and chickpeas.  But it happens occasionally, and this is that salad.  I know how it sounds.  When you ask, "What's for dinner?", you are a little disappointed when the answer is "lentil and chickpea salad."  That's the name of something you eat because you're supposed to; it's what you suffer through to get to dessert.

The only way to change your mind is to make you eat this.  I'll wait.  When you get back to me, I'll feign surprise when you tell me this is the best salad you've ever had.  You might even have seconds instead of dessert.  Probably not, but you might.

 

Lentil and Chickpea Salad

Serves 4

For the lentils:

1 c green lentils

2 cloves garlic, halved

2 springs sage

2 T olive oil

For the dressing:

2 t coriander

1 t cumin

salt

2 T tahini

1/4 c lemon juice

2 T olive oil

For the rest:

1 3/4 c chickpeas, either from a can or cooked and drained

1 small red onion, thinly sliced

1/4 c feta

1 1/2 T sesame seeds

Put the lentils, garlic, sage, and olive oil in a small pot with 2 cups water.  Bring to a simmer over medium heat.  Turn the heat to low and cook until lentils are tender, about 30 minutes.  Add more water as needed.  Let cool, and discard the sage and garlic.

Mix coriander, cumin, and salt together.  Combine tahini, lemon juice, and olive oil with 1 teaspoon of the spice mixture.  Stir well and taste, adjusting as needed.

Toss lentils, chickpeas, and red onion with dressing.  Top with feta, sesame seeds, and remaining spice mixture.  

Blackberry Hand Pies

Perhaps one of the least fulfilled food requests around these parts is pie.  My wife loves pie, and while I generally go on a pie bender in the autumn, I'm just not captivated by the whole concept.  It's quite a bit of work for dessert, when really I just want to be cramming chocolate in my mouth.

Especially now that we are (temporarily) a household of two, I cannot justify keeping a pie around.  She will certainly eat a lot of it, but my wife may not be able to polish off an entire pie by herself before it begins to lose its charm.  And there's nothing worse than spending hours on a dish, only to see it rot away in the fridge.

Enter the hand pie.  I can fulfill my wife's pie requests with minimal work, and I can make only as many as she will be able to reasonably eat.  Not to mention they are adorable.  I have a soft spot for adorable food.  

I had a friend growing up who loved those cherry hand pies made by Hostess, which probably were 0% cherry.  If we were hanging out downtown, she would often pick one up at the local food market and eat it slowly and lovingly.  This gorgeous little pies remind me of those, except they share basically nothing.  Where those were fake, these are all real.  And while you might eat them lovingly, I doubt you will be able to eat them slowly.  

Blackberry Hand Pies
Makes 12

3/4 lb blackberries
1 large apple, peeled and coarsely chopped
2 T cornmeal
1/4 t cinnamon
1/4 c sugar

1 batch dough for a double-crust pie
1 T milk

Cook blackberries, apple, cornmeal, cinnamon, and 6 tablespoons sugar in a saucepan over medium heat.  Stir frequently until mixture boils and thickens, about 5 minutes.  Cool.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Line baking sheets with parchment paper.

Roll dough to a 3/4 inch thickness.  Cut into 5 inch squares.  Place heaping tablespoons of filling in the middle of each square, and moisten the edges of the dough with milk.  Fold over to form triangles, pressing to seal.  Brush pies with milk and sprinkle remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar over them.

Bake in batches until golden, abut 30 minutes.